Reversals

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November 9, 2022- At 9 a.m., Mountain Standard Time, the rain was coming down in buckets, outside my workplace, and it was 40 degrees F. At the same time, across the continent, in New England, the temperature was in the mid-60s. Such temperature reversals have been rather common, over the past ten years. I wonder if this might be tied to an axial turn of the planet.

Yesterday’s election seemed to favour those who had campaigned with a keen sense of the public mood. Those who were tone deaf, in that regard, or who simply regurgitated old shibboleths, were largely sent packing. This is a reversal of the old adage that all one has to be is of a different party from the sitting President. A good many citizens expect more of their leadership. There is less difference between the lower middle class Whites and People of Colour than conventional wisdom would have us believe. Thus, conventional wisdom itself is facing a reversal.

In my workspace today, things are stabilizing. The long-delayed strengthening of the classroom and increase in staff began in earnest, yesterday. When I returned from my Election Day stint, it was a pleasure to be able to actually offer focused instruction to a smaller group of students. This is a positive reversal of the trend towards larger class sizes, though there is much left to be done, in restoring confidence in public schools-or schools in general, for that matter.

Sometimes, reversals can be revitalizing and bring about the opposite of what it was feared they would bring.

The Robust Lines

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November 8, 2022, El Mirage- The quiet, unassuming woman took her place in line, outside the polling station, in this thriving western suburb of Phoenix. One thing distinguished her from the rest of the voters: She sported a sweatshirt, with a logo that several people have found threatening. The lady was not intimidating; she just wanted to cast a ballot-and so it transpired.

I was here as a Poll Chaplain, from 3 p.m. until closing. My role, as I explained to the site manager, was simply to sit outside-just past the 75-foot barrier prescribed by law, and be there to provide reassurance to anyone who might be upset or anxious about the atmosphere at the site. I reassured several voters, a few of whom were first-timers, and mostly presented a calm demeanour to the nearly 200 voters who passed along in line, over that four-hour period.

The participation of voters was heartwarming, and the decorum exhibited by all in the lines was even more so. No one saw any point in being less than gracious to those around them. For that, I have never been prouder to be a citizen of this country. There are those who have commented that the concept of the United States is outmoded, and that conservative areas should be split from progressive areas. Such a ridiculous proposition ignores the fact that there are conservatives and progressives in every state, community and, often, within families. Showing respect and regard for another human being should not take a whole lot of energy-yet the wire-pullers have convinced far to many that it is impossible. The fact remains that the majority of people in my life, regardless of ideology, are loving individuals, who mainly want to be heard and understood. If that sounds like the former president talking, after the Charlottesville incident of 2017, so be it-but I will never excuse acts of violence committed by anyone in my ever-widening circle. It does the perpetrator’s soul no good, whatsoever, to not be called to account.

The day itself was full, beginning with a drive from Prescott to the small city of Avondale, about ten miles west of Phoenix and equally south of El Mirage. There, I paid a visit to some old friends’ coffee shop and bakery-enjoying a light lunch. Coldwater Coffee House and Bakery is also a community gathering place. The Martinez de Aragon family is committed to strengthening the civic pride that their neighbours feel in Avondale, and in its subcommunities. After lunch, I got my bearings, and did a week’s worth of laundry at a shop near the school, in El Mirage, where Penny and I both worked for several years, in the 2000s.

The chance to serve as Poll Chaplain was the icing on the cake of a very fine day. Even the forecast rain and wind held off, though we are told it will definitely take place tomorrow.

Forging Ahead

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November 7, 2022- The otherwise kind and polite gentleman wore a sweatshirt that clearly stated how he saw himself. The message could have been interpreted as menacing. I saw it more as of the pre-emptive, “Don’t mess with Texas” variety of commentary. He ate his meal, conversed pleasantly with table mates and carefully placed his dinner tray, like anyone else. His politics are not mine, but I sense that we’d get along quite well, as time goes on.

About forty minutes later, after I had finished my assumed duties at the Monday evening soup kitchen, the strains of Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” could be heard, from a conservative political rally, on the grounds of our courthouse. I drove past, just as Laura’s recorded voice was serving up “all those voices in your head, calling GLORIA!!”, and I wondered, to whom might the person who added that song to the playlist be directing it.

Earlier today, the first of five days working as part of a makeshift crew that is tending to a small group of Special Needs children passed slowly, but in concentrated fashion. Only two of the team have any substantial long-term experience working with such children, and my own experience is scattershot, though I know how to tailor instruction to meet their needs. The school’s Principal is tending to the ambiguous promise of a properly trained full-time teacher, who has yet to make an appearance, as best she can. Since I have no knowledge of exactly what the hold-up is, I will leave it at that. The next two weeks, or so, I will devote four more days: This coming Wednesday, two days next week and the Monday before Thanksgiving, to this endeavour.

There is a full moon tomorrow and a full lunar eclipse will take place, as I sleep. That usually means I will be woken up by one or two strange dreams, and will lie awake for a half hour or so, before falling into another weird scenario. The knowledge that I am in my own bed, in my own room, will let the scenarios fade away. Tomorrow’s agenda includes a drive down to El Mirage, in the western suburbs of Phoenix, and a shift as Poll Chaplain, at City Hall.

Election Day will come and go, as all days do. We will forge ahead.

Peace of Mind

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November 6, 2022- With “permission” from Phoenix, I put my bags in the Sportage, bid farewell to the housekeeper and left Casa Remuda for Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park, a scant 1.9 miles to the northeast . Entrance to the park is free of charge, and indeed, it is connected by trails, to the Thunder Mountain Trail system. Thus, it is maintained by donations.

The Stupa, or dome-shaped shrine, is 30 feet high and was erected, for the purpose of bringing benefit to all living beings, in 1988. Jetsunma Akhon Lamo is the person responsible for its establishment and has remained the driving force behind its growth as a meditation and healing site. I felt its calming influence, during the hour or so that I spent there-and for the rest of the afternoon. I will certainly return there again, hopefully with others.

Here are some scenes of the Great Stupa and its surroundings.

Entrance to Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park
Prayer flags, adorning a juniper.
Prayer wheels, in which devotions and supplications may be inserted.
Amitabha Stupa
I could not say it better.
Two Stupas, in alignment.
Juniper, that is the eastern boundary of the Peace Park.

I walked a bit along the periphery of the park, finding its trails which link to Thunder Mountain Trail. A couple of ladies, hiking along Thunder Mountain Trail looked confused, so I mentioned that the trail I was about to take led to the Peace Park. As they felt a need for peace in their lives, they followed me to the Stupa.

It was a wonderful appendix to my stay at Casa Remuda. I will return to both, again.

Casa Remuda

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November 5, 2022, Sedona- About two months ago, I encountered an effusive lady from New York, who was living and working, at the time, in a relaxed and well-appointed Bed & Breakfast, close to several trails on the Near West Side of town. She told me it would be a lovely, if a bit pricey, place to stay overnight, if I wanted to hike a trail early or to stay late at Synergy Cafe, where I have sometimes joined impromptu musical sessions with my had-held drum.

I have had hot-cold relationships with the owner and manager of Synergy. Presently, things are in a cool phase, and while I spent a couple of hours there tonight, I did not stay long, once the manager showed up. That is a digression, though. Casa Remuda is an amazing place, nestled in a residential neighbourhood, near Thunder Mountain and Chimney Rock. The couple who own and operate the Bed and Breakfast live on the premises and have given their all to the comfort and well-being of their guests, a swell as being kind employers. The 2 or 3 workers, two housekeepers and a maintenance man, live on the premises as well.

It was a quiet stay, bookended by two virtual Baha’i meetings, for which Walter and Vivian graciously let me use a small table, right off the kitchen, as it had the strongest WiFi. I used their massage bed, twice, which also helped me relax and sleep-the Queen-sized in the Lower Guest Room also had a heated mattress pad, even furthering the quality of the rest.

Then, there were the cats-Vivian’s joy. Cleopatra, Merlin and Phoenix are basically gentle creatures and like all cats, have the run of the house-and much of the property during the day. Coyotes and mountain lions being what they are, the trio are called in as night falls. Phoenix chose to play with me a bit, and engaged in “stalk and catch”-the feline version of “hide and seek”. In the end, Phoenix gave me permission to finish packing my bag. She is gracious in that way.

Phoenix the Cat, at Casa Remuda, Sedona

Here are some other scenes of the various scenes, both inside and out, at Casa Remuda.

A crystal throne
A ceramic “Jar Couple”
The Servant Cats
Swedish Ivy, in bloom
Soaring Eagle (Walter’s Spiritual Name)
Reflection Room and Study

Here is the perfect place for taking in and processing all the energy, both positive and negative, that comes with a Sedona visit. The former can be channeled and the latter, left at the gate. Walter and Vivian have left that gate open for me, in the future. I will be sure to take them up on that, either solo or with another friend or two, in the time to come.

I think Phoenix would agree.

The Red Bear

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November 4, 2022- A small red ceramic bear, with a salmon wrapped around its neck, stands on my computer table. It’s kept me company for eleven years, along with a small praying angel figurine. Overlooking us, from the vantage point of the work desk, left me by my late father-in-law, are a red-haired cloth doll, in a full-length, felt Christmas green gown with white ruffle and a red cape in back. It bears a resemblance to Penny. To its left is a hand-made Nutcracker soldier, bearing a staff and given me by a beloved child, in 2015. Next left is a ceramic Buddha, which Norm got in Paris, in 1945, and is a family heirloom. The figurines are flanked by a framed photo of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, on the right and one of Aram, in Navy seaman garb, on the left.

My parents are in a framed photo, atop a white book shelf to the right of the desk. A small wedding photo of Aram and Yunhee sits next to that photo, and in between them is a paving stone from Boston’s Scollay Square renovation project, of the 1950s, given me by my late Uncle George. The U.S. flag is mounted on the left of that bookshelf. On the shelves underneath are a couple of gourds, a green decorative plate, with a Nine-pointed star in the middle, photos of Aram and his male cousins, and of my brother, Dave, his wife, Deb and their adult children. On the lower shelves are a painted rock, a dreamcatcher, a photo of Aram with Yunhee, in a lighter moment on their wedding day and another of the Shrine of al-Bab. A picture of a lotus flower and a hanging Peace flag round out the second shelf. Finally, a wooden water buffalo, from my VietNam days stands to the left of a small photo of Lori Ann Piestewa, a soldier killed in Iraq, who I knew as a child on the Hopi Reservation. A small piece of basalt sits on the far right corner of that third shelf.

Directly across from where I sit, on the surface of the desk, are a pair of silver dolphins, which I painted for Penny, when she was in hospital, in 2010; an incense bowl; a singing bowl and pestle; and a small metal baleen whale next to a miniature Hopi ceramic bowl.

These are what keep me company, when I choose to sit at Home Base, conserving energy and money for the activities that lie ahead, over the next three weeks.

The First Snow

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November 3, 2022- It mostly danced in the air, before fluttering to its melting place, on the still warm dirt and asphalt. A crew is working diligently, to put in a sidewalk, along the south side of Goodwin Street, between the American Legion Post and Prescott Public Library. Snow was just a minor distraction, for them and for those of us who were going about minor business. I chose a rather salty, but bracing, bowl of chili from Olde World Bakery, for lunch. It was hot, though not spicy-and that was okay. It was a good counter to the unseasonable cold outside.

I awoke this morning to a wintry feeling inside myself, tapping into the strange energy that has been afoot since last week’s attack on the Speaker of the House’s husband. Violence should never be the butt of jokes, but then, neither should a disability, a debilitating disease or even a person’s physical attributes. Such humour only delineates the teller’s, and audience’s, lack of maturity. A while later, after getting myself together, doing devotions and checking the news, I got an e-mail asking that I serve as a Poll Chaplain, in the city of El Mirage, west of Phoenix, on Tuesday afternoon and evening.

Tuesday, November 8, is also the day of a full moon and of a total lunar eclipse. Cosmic guides say that this year’s eclipses have the energy of those which took place in 2004, and thus unresolved matters from that year may arise again this year, for resolution by way of the growth one has undergone since that time. 2004 was part of the time when I was starting to see Penny decline, and starting to deal with a few personal demons. Those have been defeated and expunged, over the past eight years. I will, though, be more cognizant of any residue that needs to be removed and let flow out. The same will be true of each year going forward: Eclipses may bring out old issues from eighteen years prior, and any spiritual learning I have acquired in the interim may be put to use, in dispersing the old energy.

Tonight, the snow has ended, and more seasonal weather lies ahead-with perhaps rain on Election Day. I’ve already voted, but will be there for those, in El Mirage, who are experiencing anxiety or distress.

Not Even….

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November 2, 2022- Perception is 9/10 of reality.

The young woman stood resolutely in front of me, demanding to now why I was focusing my attention on her small group of friends. It was simple: They were not working as expected, and had no intention of doing so. A flood of “whatabout___ and_____” was offered as a rebuttal to my reminders to get the work done. Those groups had completed their assignments, and thus earned her scorn. Being found wrong is a hard thing at any age, but particularly at 15 or 16.

Nonetheless, there is much to respect and admire about Leah (not her real name). Her work habits of this morning aside, she has more integrity in her thumbnail than a good many adults I know. I will also never discourage forthrightness and speaking truth to power. I am sure that she regarded my watching them as a form of stalking, a suspicion borne of God knows what unwanted attention, from whom.

This was one of those occasions where I stepped outside of myself-seeing a mistake in approach to a management problem and drawing insight on how I might have done things differently. A skipped assignment can always be made up. It was explained to me later, by an administrator, that Leah was having a hard time of late. As mentioned earlier, there is always a back story.

This is all a bit ironic, as for 43 of my 45 years in education, my focus has always been the well-being of the child. (The first two years were spent in a system where teachers were feeling their way out of the Dark Ages, and my track record was not all that wonderful. Remorse and atonement are wondrous things.)

As it happened, later on today, a case of verbal harassment of another student was handled swiftly-and the miscreant ended up apologizing to his target-and to the class. I am favourably impressed by the administrators at that school.

As for Leah, and any student-especially a girl or young woman-the thought of me looking upon her with lascivious eyes- ummm, not even! Perception is 9/10 of reality, however-so, it’s wise to mind the perception.

Loving the “Weeds”

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November 1, 2022- The tall, curly-haired boy came in the classroom, for the second time today, perhaps in a state of momentary confusion. Schedules are changing, seemingly willy-nilly in some instances, and the Special Needs children are particularly placed in confusing situations. He spent extra time with me, this morning, on his friend’s recommendation. The afternoon time slot was his regular time in the room, but seeing the work would pretty much be the same as earlier, he left to get some Math instruction.

Though our area has been able to find teachers, sometimes only after a brief period of skeletal staffing, there remains a climate of tentativeness. This does seep through to the children, who need to be reassured-by substitutes like me, that their regular teacher IS coming back tomorrow. They have seen far too much disruption, in these past 2 1/2 years. Once they realize that order is being maintained, the anxiety lowers from the roof, and a fair amount of work gets done.

I have long had a special place in my heart for the roughnecks and the hard-to-reach. It usually takes a day or two, sometimes a week, to gain their trust. Sometimes, the hurt is too deep and I don’t get very far along, and external circumstances keep any meaningful relationship at bay.

There are those who get characterized, still, as “wild weeds”. I remind myself, and any who will listen, that plants called weeds tend to have medicinal value. It is useful to work on the strengths of the child, while curing the flaws. Re-framing people as having Special Gifts makes more sense to me,

Whose True North?

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October 31, 2022- There is always a back story.

As is the case every Halloween, the lines of costumed people, of various ages, spanned both sides of Mount Vernon Street, one of three Prescott neighbourhoods that put on a great display of hospitality. In a nearby service post, two disparate groups of people were gathered: A handful of adults, indulging in alcoholic beverages and a fairly flowing stream of children, most with their parents, picking up bags of chocolate candy and enjoying cookies and punch. For the most part, things went well. An unfortunate confluence of young girls entering the room and the use of foul language from the adjacent area led to a direct appeal to the adults to cub their vulgarity, while children were present. After a brief period of tension, involving protest about First Amendment rights and such, there was an apology, a handshake and mutual recognition of humanity.

It was explained that there were some hard circumstances in one person’s life, which were being shared with a concerned friend. These, strictly among adults, would not be cause for anyone to step in and ask for more polite language. In my world, though, children ought to be spared having to hear profanity, despite the insistence by much of society that “These are only words”. Adults having a hard time in life deserve every bit of support that can be mustered AND care should be used in speaking around children, points I was able to get across, after a fashion. They are not mutually exclusive.

True North does require showing love towards everyone-and working through situations which may initially be tough. That seems to be a theme surfacing quite a bit lately, both in real life events and in entertainment media. We may be at loggerheads, at various times, because priorities don’t always jibe. My priority: The care of, and setting examples for, children and youth, is not as far removed from extending a hand to an adult who has come on hard times, as it sometimes seems. Helping parents, after all, IS looking out for the kids. Defusing the tough situations that arise from a clash of priorities just feels good, besides.

There is always a back story, when someone seems obstinate or hostile. It does not have to end badly, and tonight, it did not.